Part 2: The Secret They Buried Six Years Ago
Part 2: The Secret They Buried Six Years Ago
Mercer closed the locker-room door behind him.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said my name.
Not my rank.
“Claire.”
That frightened me more than the fight.
Almost nobody from my old life still used that name.
“Where did you hear about Black Lantern?”
Mercer looked toward the door.
“Because I received the same message that brought you here.”
He pulled a folded photograph from his jacket and placed it on the counter.
My breath caught.
Six years earlier, I was standing beside my brother, Daniel, in a desert far from home.
He was smiling.
Alive.
The official report said he had died during the operation that ended Black Lantern.
I had spent six years believing that report.
Mercer pointed to the photograph.
“Someone sent this to my office this morning.”
I turned it over.
Five words were written on the back:
ONE OF THEM SOLD YOU OUT.
I looked at Mercer.
“You knew about Daniel?”
“I knew enough to start asking questions.”
“And now?”
He hesitated.
“Now I think your brother may still be alive.”
My hands went cold.
“That’s impossible.”
“We found evidence nine days ago.”
He showed me a surveillance image.
It was grainy, taken inside a restricted facility somewhere near Savannah.
A man was walking down a corridor.
His face wasn’t visible.
But I recognized the way he walked.
The slight tilt of his shoulders.
The old injury in his neck.
Daniel.
I stared at the screen.
“That could be anyone.”
“I told myself the same thing.”
“Until?”
“Until we matched the biometric data.”
I looked up.
“You’re saying that’s my brother?”
“I’m saying someone wants us to believe it is.”
That distinction mattered.
Because six years earlier, I had learned the hardest lesson of my life:
Sometimes the truth is more dangerous than the lie.
Mercer lowered his voice.
“Three people connected to Black Lantern have died in the last year.”
I knew the names.
Walsh.
Keating.
Moreno.
All three had survived the final mission.
All three had known what really happened.
“Accidents?” I asked.
“That’s what the reports say.”
“And you don’t believe them.”
“No.”
A knock sounded at the door.
We both turned.
A voice called from the hallway.
“General Mercer?”
Mercer opened the door slightly.
Someone whispered something to him.
His expression changed.
He shut the door.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
He handed me my old photograph.
“Because someone knew you would recognize that symbol.”
I looked down.
Something caught my eye.
The helicopter window in the photograph reflected a seventh person.
Someone who wasn’t listed on the mission roster.
A military officer.
A star was visible on his shoulder.
My stomach tightened.
“Mercer.”
He looked at the reflection.
His face went pale.
“You recognize him?”
He didn’t answer.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Who was the general attached to Black Lantern?”
Mercer finally looked at me.
“That’s the problem.”
He pointed toward the locker behind us.
“I’m not sure he was attached to it.”
The locker door was slightly open.
Neither of us had touched it.
I approached slowly.
Inside was a black cord.
Hanging from it was a dog tag.
I knew the name before I touched it.
Maddox, Daniel R.
My brother’s.
Beneath the tag sat an old military phone.
Its screen suddenly illuminated.
INCOMING CALL: DANIEL
I stopped breathing.
Mercer whispered, “Don’t answer.”
I pressed the screen.
The video connected.
For several seconds, there was only darkness.
Then I heard breathing.
And a voice I had spent six years trying to forget.
“Claire?”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Daniel?”
The screen flickered.
His face appeared.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably my brother.
He looked terrified.
“Claire, listen to me.”
I couldn’t speak.
He glanced behind him.
Then he whispered:
“You were never supposed to find me.”
A sound came from somewhere behind him.
Daniel’s eyes widened.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Leave the base.”
“Why?”
His answer came barely above a whisper.
“Because the person who ordered Black Lantern erased six years ago is standing inside your selection unit.”